Parade
by Oxymoronic Alliteration
Summary: Specs hates Mardi Gras. Can an encounter with a certain blonde change his feelings? Language and implied slash


Disclaimer: I do not own Specs and/or Dutchy, Disney does. Wouldn't it be cool if I did though? Oh, but Victoria is mine and mine alone! Mwhahahaha!  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Crowded. Wild. Noisy.   
  
Those were probably the best words one could use to describe the streets of New Orleans during Mardi Gras. Well anytime actually, but especially at Mardi Gras, and especially at a parade as big as Endymion.  
  
"Also drunk," I thought to myself as people around me hooted and hollered, about 98% of which were reeking of alcohol. Personally, I hate parades and Mardi Gras in general. Other than getting a week off from school and being able to eat as much King Cake as one's heart desires, there isn't anything that great about it. It was just yet another excuse for people to act like jackasses.   
  
So why exactly was I there?  
  
I pondered this very question for a split second before a small cry of joy from above me served as a reminder. Looking up, I couldn't help but grin at the 6-year-old, energetic girl who sat on my shoulders. My sister Victoria was getting a kick out of all this. Whether it was catching beads and other items thrown from the floats, cheering for the bands and dance teams which passed by, or marveling at the beautiful costumes worn by the King, Queen, and other members of the court, she loved it all.   
  
"Of course," I mused, "she hasn't had the chance to really get sick of it all."   
  
After our parents had split up, I stayed with mom in Louisiana, while Victoria went to live with dad in Texas. She had been only four at the time; I had been fifteen. Of course, we had flown back and forth to visit with each other and other family members, but this was her first time being allowed to visit during the Mardi Gras season. She was itching to see one of the big parades. I finally decided to bite the bullet and take her, much to her delight.  
  
So there I stood in the middle of many intoxicated people, in freezing (or at least freezing by Louisiana's standards) weather, being deafened by the banging of millions of drums, watching people who had payed a crap-load of money to ride in a float chuck little plastic necklaces at eager catchers. Across the street, I could see two people get into a fight over a large pair of beads. The girl next to me lifted her shirt, revealing her two perfectly formed breasts. Apparently they were well accepted by the men on the floats, because she was instantly bombarded from all sides by items. Personally, I found it disgusting.   
  
What exactly was the appeal in beads anyway? I remember going on vacation once and seeing a man selling "authentic Mardi Gras Beads" for five dollars each.  
  
Yes, authentic ones, as opposed to the fake ones. These were made from the better plastic.  
  
Another pair of beads dropped in the plastic bag I was holding. It was brimming with items, and increasingly becoming heavier and heavier. That, plus the weight on my shoulders, didn't make for a good combination for someone like me. I have absolutely no upper body strength whatsoever. I was surprised I was able to hold up even someone has small as Victoria. Thankfully, the parade was nearly over. Now only about twenty more minutes of hell remained.  
  
The Newman Greenies, one the last, if not the very last, schools in the parade, began to pass in front of us. First came those carrying the banner* of the school. They were soon followed by the cheerleaders shouting, "Go, Greenies! Go!" which caused me, like many people, to wonder what the hell a Greenie was anyway. I'm not sure the school even knows. I mean do they have a mascot who actually comes out on the field or court during sports events and gets the crowd pepped up?  
  
My brainstorm, however, was cut short as the band began to pass in front of us. In the second row of the drum line, directly in the middle, playing a snare drum like there was no tomorrow stood the most gorgeous creature I had ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes upon. From where I stood, he seemed to be only slightly taller than I was. He had unruly blonde hair, blue eyes (which were accentuated by the glasses which rested upon the bridge of his adorable nose), perfect skin (not too tan), and the cutest damn smile I could recall ever seeing.  
  
As he passed, I think my jaw dropped straight to the ground. My stomach flipped as his eyes met my dark brown ones. I may have been hallucinating, but I do believe he winked at me, only increasing the rate at which my heart was going. I kept my eyes fixated on him, especially his very nice ass which seemed to sway as he walked into the distance and out of my sight.   
  
I'm not quite sure how long I remained like that, but next thing I knew, a voice was calling my name.  
  
"Josh! Josh!" A small hand was tapping me on the shoulder gently. I looked up at Victoria. "I have to go to the bathroom."  
  
Bathroom. Great.  
  
I knew there had to be some porto-potties around somewhere. It would just be a matter of finding them. Though even once we did find them, they aren't the most sanitary places on earth. Plus, I'm sure it would be awkward if she needed any assistance in there.   
  
"Can't you hold it in?" I asked. "It will only take about fifteen minutes to get home." Okay, so that was a lie. On a normal day, it would take at least twenty-five minutes. I could only imagine what it would be like when it was this crowded. Traffic was going to be horrific.  
  
She shook her head, "I have to go now."  
  
I sighed. This wasn't going to be easy.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
After searching for only ten minutes, we were finally able to locate a place for Victoria to go. Thankfully, she told me she was a big girl and didn't want help. As I waited, I couldn't help but allow my mind to wander back to the drummer. We were at the very end of the parade route. Maybe I could find him. However, I decided against it. For all I knew he had a girlfriend waiting for him. Besides, I wanted to get out of this hell hole as soon as possible. Within only a few minutes Victoria was out.  
  
"Are you ready to go?" I asked hopefully. "The parade is basically over anyway." She nodded. We began the trek to where the car was parked. Unfortunately, we only got a few steps until I was knocked into by some drunk asshole. The bag containing what we had caught was scattered everywhere. My attacker continued to run out of sight.   
  
"No problem! We're not hurt or anything! But thanks for your concern anyway!" I called out to him. "Jackass," I muttered under my breath as I began to collect our items. This task was only made harder by people passing, oblivious to the fact that their feet were kicking things even further away from me. The gods were obviously conspiring against me at that moment. Maybe they were trying to get back at me for disliking Mardi Gras so much.   
  
"Hey let me give you a hand."  
  
A few more items dropped into the bag I held. I looked up at my rescuer.  
  
There stood the blonde god! Looking at me with that soft smile. I knew I had to say something cool. Show him that intellectual wit of mine.  
  
"You're that guy who was playing the snare drum for the Newman Greenies!"  
  
Or I could just go for the complete idiot approach, though I doubt that will work as well.  
  
His smile widened and he raised an eyebrow. "Yes I am. Do you always memorize the faces of people in parades?"  
  
Here was my chance to play off that moment of stupidity. I shrugged. "Nah, just the cute ones."  
  
......Where the HELL did that come from?  
  
My eyes widened. He raised both of his eyebrows this time.   
  
God, if you really care for me, you will kill me now!  
  
"My! I guess you're not the type to play hard to get, huh?" He was snickering. I couldn't tell if this was a good or bad sign. He held his hand out to me. "Most people call me Dutchy," He grinned almost sadistically. "You know, as opposed to "that guy who was playing the snare drum for the Newman Greenies."   
  
I shook his hand. He looked on expectantly. "This would be the part where you tell me your name."  
  
I could feel the heat radiating off of my face as it became red. "Specs," I replied. I looked down when I felt a small tug on my hand. "Oh, and this is my sister Victoria."  
  
A squatted down until he was eye level with her. Smiling, he asked, "And how old are you?"  
  
She proudly held up her entire left hand, plus the index finger on her right hand. "This many!"  
  
"And how many is that?" he asked amused.   
  
She paused momentarily to count. Looking back at him, she exclaimed, "Six!"  
  
"Wow! You're a big girl aren't you?"  
  
"How old are you?" she asked   
  
He laughed. "Not young enough to show you on my fingers, I can tell you that." He looked up at me. "So how old are you Specs."  
  
I smiled slightly. I first held up both hands entirely, then held up only my left hand and the index and thumb of my right. "This many."  
  
Dutchy laughed again. Lord, that laugh was infectious.   
  
"You know, for being brother and sister, you two certainly don't look much alike."  
  
I knew what he meant. With my somewhat curly dark hair, brown eyes, and white, white complexion I hardly resembled her with her straight auburn hair, hazel eyes, and slightly tan skin, which was sprayed with freckles.  
  
I nodded, "She got the better looks."  
  
He turned and looked at me, as though he were studying me. Then turned away. "I think you got some good ones too."  
  
Was he flirting with me?  
  
"So, are you guys from New Orleans?"  
  
"No, Victoria really lives in Texas, she just visiting," I explained. "I live in St. Bernard."  
  
Yes St. Bernard. The armpit of Louisiana. The place which has about seven daiquiri places within only one mile, yet not a single book store. The place which seems to amaze people with its drive through daiquiri window (Now that had to be one of their brighter ideas. Giving alcohol to people they know are driving. Just genius). Good old St. Bernard.  
  
He grinned "You like it there?"  
  
"Honestly? No, not in the least."  
  
"Where do you go to school?"  
  
"Hannan High."  
  
"Ha! We beat your ass in football this year!" he boasted.  
  
I snorted, "Everyone did!" I raised an eyebrow. "But at least we have a mascot." I shot back.  
  
"Hey, we have a mascot!" He said in defense  
  
Rolling my eyes, I replied, "I mean a recognizable mascot. We're the Hawks, plan and simple." I looked at him. "You, on the other hand, are the Greenies. What, pray tell, is a Greenie?"  
  
He opened his mouth, probably hoping for a smart comeback, but then closed it. Shrugging in defeat, he admitted, "I have no idea!"  
  
We both found this hilarious.   
  
"Are we gonna go home?" Victoria looked up at me.   
  
I had forgotten. Just minutes ago, I had been begging to leave. What happened to that?  
  
Oh right, Dutchy.  
  
"I guess," I said reluctantly. I turned to Dutchy apologetically. "I think we need to be going."  
  
He nodded. "That's fine." He paused, as though he were trying to figure out what to say next.  
  
"Um, but thanks for your help."  
  
He spun around and asked me, "Do you think we could exchange numbers or something? You know, to keep in touch and stuff."  
  
I was floored. "Yeah," I told him once I had collected myself. "That would be great."  
  
He grinned, obviously relieved. Instructing us to wait for a second, he ran off, only to return a minute later with a pen and paper in hand. After writing his name and number on one half, he handed me the pen to write mine on the other half.   
  
"Here," I said as I handed him the pen and sheet containing my number. Our hands brushed together slightly. We both blushed furiously. "So, uh, I guess this is good-bye for now."  
  
We stood there for what seemed like an eternity, just staring at each other, and grinning like idiots.  
  
"Are you two gonna kiss or something?" Victoria asked innocently. We both laughed.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Once we had exchanged our final good-byes, Victoria and I made our way to where we were parked.  
  
"Ok," I thought, "so maybe Mardi Gras isn't that bad."  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
* no pun intended :)  
  
A/N: *sigh* Yes cuteness, fluffiness, the whole shebang. Liked it? Hated it? Think I should just give up writing all together? Well what better way to tell me than in a review?*hinthint* Peace, love, and King Cake to all! *blows kiss* Happy Mardi Gras! 


End file.
